


The Feast

by Derechoran



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26316589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Derechoran/pseuds/Derechoran
Summary: It's going to be a long night.





	The Feast

Clara hung from a ceiling, duct-taped to a chain, upside down. She could feel the blood pooling in her head. Her face must look chubby right now.

The witch that captured her didn't seem to care about her. She sat over at the other side of the house, playing with a bunch of dolls. 

"Hey, you," Clara said, blowing a hair out of her face. 

The hag turned towards her with a grunt and cocked her head like a bird. At this angle, Clara could see several hairs growing out of her nose. She should really get those trimmed. 

"Ah, yeah. I was just wondering. . . are you planning on letting me go?" she asked impatiently.

The witch turned back to her dolls and started to giggle. "She thinks we're going to let her go. That would ruin the ceremonial Sunday feast, yes yes. We can't let that happen."

She let out a maniacal cackle. That couldn't be good. Clara waited until the chain rotated back around. "What do you mean 'we'?" 

The witch turned back around with a crazed smile. "Why, me and my babies of course! Would you like to meet them?" Her eyes growing wide.

"Ah, no no no, I'm good." The lady furrowed her brows, the reply obviously hurting her feelings. She huffed and turned towards her dolls, dressing one in a feathered headdress. One of the other dolls appeared to be wearing a bag over its head with a smiley face scratched into it. 

A pan clattered to the floor above her head, nearly giving Clara a heart attack. She turned her head to see a black cat sitting on the shelf where the pan used to be, cleaning itself. It stopped to look at her. 

She gulped. 

"May I ask who you are?" Clara asked, looking back towards her. 

The witch didn't even bother to turn around this time. "My name is Griswalda. And yourself?" 

"Clara. Clara Oswald. So, uh, what is this ceremonial feast you're talking about?" 

Griswalda set down the dolls and stood up, walking over to the pot that was simmering by the fire. "You don't know, hmmm?" She paused to take a sip of the soup she was preparing. 

The smell of tomatoes and garlic floated over to Clara's nose. "It is a feast to the divine God cat, Mr. Fluffykins." 

Clara looked back over at the black cat. "Is that Mr. Fluffykins?" she said, motioning towards it. The witch turned around and laughed. 

"No no, that's Mr. Squeak. He wouldn't hurt a fairy. Now, let's see if you're ready for the feast." She giggled, walking over to her. 

Clara began to squirm, trying to get away from the bony hands that began to grab at her. "You know, humans aren't really that tasty. Cows are way better. Have you tried steak?"

Griswalda looked temporarily confused, then began to chuckle. "Oh darling, did you think I was going to eat you? No no no, we need another person to feast with us. You need to be cleanly and fashionable, and you need to finish all the food unless Mr. Fluffykins gets unhappy." 

Clara paused. "Why don't you just make less food?"

Griswalda put a finger up to her head and scratched at an ungainly wart. 

"Never really thought about it. It's just always been easy to capture someone and have them feast with us." 

She walked back to her dolls, angrily picking up the one with the bag on its head. "Georgina, I told you to wash up for dinner. How dare you disobey me!" she screamed. Griswalda proceeded to toss the doll at the wall.

It was going to be a long night.


End file.
